


There's A Better Life For Me And You

by iregretsigningupalready



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Universe, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Established Relationship, F/M, Human Castiel, M/M, Miscommunication, One Shot, Post-Season/Series 11 AU, and the BMOL don't exist, eventually, i'm really not sure how else to tag this mess, if god and amara had left without bringing anyone back, set at the end of s11, so there's no pending apocalypse for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 20:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14480106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iregretsigningupalready/pseuds/iregretsigningupalready
Summary: Things were… they were good.For the first time in a long time. Maybe in forever.After Amara and God had made their peace, life had returned to some sense of normality - there were no pressing issues between heaven and hell; the universe wasn't under any imminent threat, and the Winchesters had been able to return to saving people. Not planets. Not whole worlds. Just people. Families. Children. Parents.It was the smallest victories that felt like the biggest.Before he'd left to sacrifice himself to Amara, Dean had made one crucial decision. In the Impala, whilst nobody else was around. It had been what he thought would be his last ever chance to just follow his damn heart. And so he had.He'd kissed Castiel.Castiel had kissed him back.They had been living the repercussions of that decision ever since.





	There's A Better Life For Me And You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really not sure what this is. I just felt like writing it as revision-procrastination, and then figured, hell, I might as well post it... so hopefully it all makes vague sense. Cas and Dean (and Sam and Eileen) deserved this ending, to be honessssttt...

Things were… they were good.

For the first time in a long time. Maybe in forever.

After Amara and God had made their peace, life had returned to some sense of normality - there were no pressing issues between heaven and hell; the universe wasn't under any imminent threat, and the Winchesters had been able to return to saving people. Not planets. Not whole worlds. Just people. Families. Children. Parents.

It was the smallest victories that felt like the biggest.

Before he'd left to sacrifice himself to Amara, Dean had made one crucial decision. In the Impala, whilst nobody else was around. It had been what he thought would be his last ever chance to just _follow his damn heart_. And so he had.

He'd kissed Castiel.

Castiel had kissed him back.

They had been living the repercussions of that decision ever since.

And now, years had passed, and Dean's sense of normality had changed drastically from what it had been in the past.

His sense of normality included waking up in Castiel's arms. It included making breakfast for his brother as the angel prepared him a coffee. It included driving for days in his Baby, going on hunts, worrying for Castiel if anything went wrong. It included lying in bed in motel after motel, their arms and legs tangled around each other. And if they weren't in motels, then they were in the back of the Impala, or in Dean's bed at the bunker. Wherever he was, if Castiel's arms were around him, then it felt like home.

Sam had Eileen. Dean had Cas.

Dean was always lost to the hunting life. He'd known that much from the start. But Sam? He had his chance at normal - and _normal_ people's normal, too - all in the shape of Eileen. They could get married, have 2.5 kids and live their lives like everybody else did.

Dean wanted that for them. Heck, they deserved it more than anyone else.

He'd watched from the sidelines as they'd tiptoed around each other, moving from stupid face time calls, to coffee dates and then movie nights in at the bunker. Sam always did play the shy guy, but Eileen was bold. Dean loved her. And he loved even more the way that she made his brother smile.

“You look like you've just won a million dollars,” Dean would tease him whenever Sam came into the bunker after spending a night out with Eileen. Dean would slide a coffee across the kitchen counter and smirk as his brother blushed. “She's _that_ good at conversation, huh?”

“Shut up,” was all Sam would ever say.

The teasing wasn't returned. If Sam knew about all the times that Castiel would spend the night in Dean's bedroom, then he never said. He never commented on it. Maybe he knew that they were too fragile to handle it.

After years of wanting something, finally having it felt too good to be true. Dean sometimes still felt like he was walking on eggshells and at some point Castiel would wake up and realize Dean wasn't worthy of his adoration. It felt like he was living on borrowed time. He was just waiting for the moment for it all to be over.

It terrified him. But at scared as he was, it made him love Castiel harder than ever.

He looked over at Castiel in the dark, his broad shoulders bare beneath the covers, his arm around Dean's middle and his face tucked into the crook between Dean's shoulder and neck. Dean could feel the brush of stubble against his skin. Castiel didn't sleep. He'd be awake in that moment, even with his eyes closed, just resting. Just keeping Dean safe.

When they'd first started doing this - kissing, having sex, touching each other in ways they had only dreamed of before - Castiel had never stayed the night. They'd have sex - they'd fumble, and get things wrong, and apologize because neither of them really knew what to do, and both of them were terrified, and they'd both held themselves back for so long that letting go of that fear felt like the hardest thing - and then, the next morning, Dean would wake up alone. Always alone.

It had taken months before Dean had finally asked him to stay. And it seemed to be the permission that Castiel had been waiting for all along.

It wasn't how Dean had ever pictured it. He never thought he'd have the balls to kiss Castiel in the first place, and he'd never thought Castiel would want to kiss him back. But things hadn't been perfect immediately, not like the way they always show it in the movies. They hadn't kissed one day and fit together seamlessly ever since. It took years for them to understand each other, years for them to feel confident enough around each other.

After years of denying themselves, they’d had to learn how to love each other. How to love each other freely. Carefully and without care.

Dean thought they were finally getting close.

Castiel's face against his neck shifted, the arm around his middle moving so that a hand could run across his chest gently. The stubble was replaced by the press of soft lips.

“You're awake,” Castiel murmured into his skin, voice rough from disuse. They'd been lying in the dark together for hours, after all.

“Mm. Just thinkin’.”

The hand stilled against his chest, Castiel's thumb brushing a final circle before pausing. “Is it about something serious?”

"No, no,” Dean said quickly, shaking his head. His hand moved to cover Castiel's on his chest, thumb stroking the inside of the others wrist. “Not exactly,” he corrected himself quietly. Castiel shifted back on the pillow in order to look at Dean properly, and Dean rolled his eyes. “I was just thinking about us.”

It sounded so lame to say out loud, but it was the truth.

Opposite him, Castiel looked a little relieved. “Oh,” he breathed, moving to tuck himself back into Dean's side. That was when Dean felt the angel tense. “That still sounds serious,” he commented after a pause, not looking at Dean again.

Dean had to half agree.

He was thinking, more specifically, about something Sam had mentioned a few days back.

They'd been eating pizza in the kitchen, Dean had been watching some dumb YouTube videos on his laptop, and Sam had been flicking through a lame old textbook he'd found on vampires. That was when he'd brought it up.

“Y’know, Eileen mentioned the idea of me moving in with her,” he'd said casually. Voice quiet.

He hadn't looked up from his book, but Dean had sure as heck paused his videos.

“She said what?” he'd choked. “You guys are gonna live together?”

“It's not official,” Sam had hastened to say. “I told her I‘d think about it.” He'd looked at Dean nervously then, as though he was torn. “It seems like a good time, y’know? There's no - no _Lucifer_ , or _God_ or God's _sister_ . The world doesn't need us like it used to. We can take a step back, and maybe - maybe I can go back to school. Or get a job. Have a - a _life_. One that doesn't involve hunting.”

Dean's heart had sunk. Instantly.

It was always the same old conversation, circling between the two of them. A battle for normality - Dean just couldn't see himself living a normal life. He'd tried it once. Look how that had gone.

“And me?” he'd shot back selfishly. “I’m just supposed to do all this on my own?”

The look Sam had given him then had been almost confused. Taken aback, maybe.

“You've got Cas,” he'd said, easy as anything. As though he was surprised Dean hadn't thought about that himself.

He had Cas.

And Castiel was there, tucked against his side, reverberating with warmth as he waited patiently for Dean to explain what he was thinking.

He lifted a hand up, carding his fingers through Castiel's hair gently, loving the way the angel keened into the touch.

“It's not serious,” he reassured him quietly, looking up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Dean could tell that Castiel was waiting for him to continue, and Dean himself was busy trying to figure out exactly _how_ he could continue.

Eventually he settled on: “Sam and Eileen might be moving in together.”

Castiel shifted against his side for a moment. “What does that have to do with us?”

“It'll be just us in the bunker. If Sam leaves.”

“Naturally.”

“I mean - that's a lotta empty space.”

“There are a lot of rooms here, yes.”

“It'll be too big for just two people.”

They both paused, Dean's heart hammering in his chest as he felt Castiel become completely still beside him. Castiel wasn't stupid. Surely he knew the implication of Dean's words?

Still, he played dumb.

“Dean, what're you saying?” the angel asked carefully.

“You know what I'm saying,” Dean mumbled back, his face getting hotter by the second.

Castiel's hand left his chest, finding his face instead. He ran his fingertips across Dean's cheek, his thumb ghosting across Dean's lips. Every touch was reverent. “Dean, tell me.”

Dean's hand moved to wrap around Castiel's wrist and he swallowed. “I just think,” he began, “that maybe we could give normal a shot. Like Eileen and Sam are. We could… could get a house of our own.”

“No hunting?”

“I'm not gonna rule it out completely. Hunting - it gives me some kinda peace. Sam doesn't get that.”

“I get it.”

Dean smiled a little. “I know you do,” he sighed. “There are other hunters out there, though. That are younger. Smarter. Fitter.”

“None of them are as skilled as you,” Castiel whispered, like the suck up he truly was. Dean still found himself smiling a little wider.

“Maybe not,” he agreed. “But they will be one day.” He shifted a little on the pillow to look at Castiel through the dark, making out his bright eyes and messy hair. Messy because of what they'd been doing a couple of hours before. Dean smoothed it back with his free hand, watching as his fingers disappeared into the dark strands. “We can still live somewhere else,” he continued quietly. “Somewhere small, maybe. That doesn't have all the shitty memories that this place does. Somewhere we can… we can make good memories in. A place for us.”

“Wouldn't you miss the bunker?”

“Course,” Dean chuckled. “But this place - I love it, and it's the closest I've ever had to a home before - but… I've slaughtered people here.” He swallowed, his stomach twisting. “I've - I've seen my friends die here… we could have a home, without all that crap. Without the baggage. Hell, we could even get a garden, if it’s what you wanted.”

Castiel pressed his lips together, his eyes scanning Dean's face. It felt like he was scanning Dean's _soul_.

Dean nudged the others foot gently with his own.

“Wouldn't you want that?” he asked hesitantly.

God. He hoped Castiel wanted it. Dean wanted it more than anything.

But Castiel merely smiled thinly, looking sad. “Maybe,” he whispered back, before he was leaning forwards and pressing his lips to Dean's forehead. It was a lingering kiss, but it did nothing to steady the fast pace of Dean's heart.

He'd just bared his damn soul, and all for a _maybe_.

“You should sleep,” Castiel murmured into Dean's hair, and Dean tried to push down the building panic as he turned around, his back to Castiel's chest, his arms around Castiel's as they wrapped around him.

He was tired of the uncertainty. He'd watched Sam sign ‘I love you’ to Eileen across the room countless times, and they hadn't been through half the amount that he'd been through with Castiel. Why did _they_ get the freedom of being in love, whilst Dean still felt like his and Castiel's hands were tied?

Hell. Maybe Castiel just didn't love him in the first place? Not enough to ever say it, anyway.

When he woke up the next morning to an empty bed, it felt like confirmation enough.

Dean lay there in the morning sunlight, his arm stretched across the empty space where Castiel should be, and he didn't get up until midday. He just lay there, a heavy weight in his gut. Because he should never have talked to Castiel that night. When had talking ever worked in their favour?

It was a week before Sam commented on the angel's absence.

A week since Castiel had last shown up at the bunker. And it wouldn't even have been that big a deal, had it not been for the fact that their last conversation together had been so hard for Dean, and Castiel's absence now felt like a slap to the face. The coward didn't even have the balls to reject Dean face to face. He'd just piss off and never return.

And Dean would damn well _let_ him.

“You haven't seen Cas around, have you?” Sam said on the eighth day. He was rifling through notes on the map table, his hair hanging into his face, looking vaguely unbothered, not knowing he was bringing up a sore subject for the oldest Winchester. Dean tensed. “Only - I found some crazy lore on angels the other day, and I wanted to check if it was true.” Sam looked up. “He didn't answer my call, though.”

Dean shrugged, reaching for a beer and cracking it open. “He does that,” he muttered as he kept his gaze fixed steadily on his laptop screen.

“Yeah,” Sam scoffed. “To me, maybe. Can you call him?”

Dean shrugged again. He lifted the bottle to his lips and gulped down a few mouthfuls, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand.

“I know it's nothing urgent,” Sam continued, now sounding a little careful. “You're really not gonna call him?”

“Nope,” Dean said simply.

For a moment, there was silence between them, broken only by Dean as he tapped away on his laptop, every movement laced with a quiet anger. Actually, he was beyond angry. Maybe heartbroken was the word. Because obviously Sam and Eileen got to plan out their perfect little lives filled with normality together, and obviously it was all going to work out for them - but god forbid _Dean_ want that. He'd been an idiot to think he and Castiel could ever have had something normal. Could ever have lived a life like that. It wasn't what Castiel wanted, and he'd made that abundantly clear.

“Did you guys have a fight or something?” Sam suggested from across the table, even managing a nervous chuckle with the suggestion.

Dean said nothing.

“Dean-”

“-Just drop it, Sam,” Dean said before his brother could continue. He reached for his phone out of his pocket and pushed it carelessly across the table. “You wanna call him, go ahead. Do what you want. See if he picks up.”

Sam picked up the phone, and Dean listened as he tapped it against the palm of his hand in thought for a moment. That was when he heard the slide of a chair being pulled out from beneath the map table, and then Sam was moving around the table and seating himself down opposite Dean. He cleared his throat.

“Dean, what's going on?” he asked simply.

Dean stared at his laptop screen.

“I haven't seen Cas in days. That's not like him. He's - he's here all the time these days.”  

Still, Dean said nothing.

“If he's not picking up his phone then he could be in danger, Dean. Please, just-”

“- I told you to _drop it_ ,” Dean snapped. He looked up then, just in time to see Sam flinch. And a tiny part of Dean hated himself for that, but the bigger, more frustrated, part of him won out. “If I wanted to talk to him, then I would've called him. And if he wanted to talk to _me_ then he would've called me. But he hasn't. He's made his feelings pretty damn clear.”

“What the hell happened between you two?” Sam muttered, looking as though he was far from about to drop the subject any time soon. “Listen. Okay?” He took on a voice that didn't sound all too much like Sam. It was authoritative and hard. And it worked in shutting Dean up. “I don't care if you two had a fight, or whatever, but I do care about Cas. He's my friend too. So tell me what's going on with him and then I'll leave you alone.”

Truth was, Dean had no idea where to _start_ with explaining the situation between him and Cas. Sam wouldn't understand. It was as simple as that. They'd never even talked about it explicitly before - about the fact that Castiel and Dean… were a thing.

Dean swallowed, looking away, his neck and ears reddening.

“Dean,” Sam started, voice softer now. He reached forward, nudging Dean's knee briefly. “You can talk to me, man.” He paused. “I know you and him have something going on. You've never had to explain yourselves to me - but if Cas is in trouble…”

“Sam,” Dean sighed, slamming his laptop shut. He had half a mind to just get up and leave, but it was tough when his younger brother was sat there looking all concerned. “You don't get it.”

“Well, maybe if you _talked_ to me-”

“-Then you still wouldn't get it!” Dean snapped.

Sam's mouth snapped shut, his lips pressed together. It gave Dean a sense of satisfaction to see him be taken aback for a moment. It felt justified.

“You have no idea what it's like,” Dean finally continued, not looking at Sam. His chest felt tight just addressing it. “He's not human. And he's - he's not even a _girl._ ” Dean clenched his jaw, his words bitter. “I've been - I've been fucking freaked out about it all since day one.”

“I thought you were over all that now,” Sam started hesitantly. He ran a hand through his hair. “I know he stays here some nights - and you… you both seemed happy.”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered. He took another gulp of his beer, feeling the burn of it down his throat. He wanted something far stronger. “I thought that, too.”

“So what happened?”

Dean looked up, meeting Sam's eyes. He didn't want to say it out loud. Not only did it hurt to address it, but it was also embarrassing. It was embarrassing because Dean had been dumb enough to think he could have what Sam was allowed so easily. “I asked if he wanted to live with me,” he said at last, his voice a little hoarse.

God, Dean would rather take a bullet than cry over being rejected by some genderless, non-human, alien, angel, _monster_. He swallowed, feeling on the verges of some kind of breakdown regardless. He looked away, his lips pressing tight together to keep from crumbling like a fool.

“What did he say?” Sam breathed.

Dean shrugged. He drained his beer and ran a hand across his (thankfully) dry eyes. “He's been gone a week, hasn't he?” He glanced at Sam and let out a short laugh before standing up, abandoning his laptop on the table as he reached for another bottle from the pack. “Like I said; he's made his feelings pretty clear.”

“Dean,” Sam began, standing up as Dean started to leave. “Dude.” He caught Dean's arm.

It felt like the final straw for Dean. He yanked his arm from Sam's grip and glared at him. “Just drop it, Sammy,” he snapped.

“You have to talk to him. He's probably just - just _scared_ , Dean-”

“-And you think I wasn't scared _too_ ?” Dean growled, the tightness in his chest turning into anger. “You don't get it, because it's _easy_ for you, Sam. Always has been. You've always been ready to drop all this and marry some chick and - and live some _apple pie life_ , but that's not me. And the one time I want it - the one time I _ask..._ ” He cut himself off, the words catching his throat as he glared at his brother, and as Sam reached for his arm again, Dean pushed him away. “Just _stop it._ ”

Sam lifted his hands up in surrender, looking wary for a second before he sighed, his shoulders sagging. “You can't get mad at me for that,” he said quietly. “You're not the only person on the planet to be scared about relationships, Dean. And Cas isn't either. You just have to _talk_ to each other.”

“And look where that got me _last_ time!” Dean hissed.

“Call him,” Sam pushed on. He reached for Dean's phone and picked it up off the table, holding it out for Dean to take. “Call him, Dean.” He shook the phone in his hand, urging Dean to take it.

Dean took it. He held it tight in his hand for a moment and then he craned his arm back and threw it at the wall, watching as the screen exploded against the bricks. Beside him, Sam flinched again, and his eyes were sad as Dean glared at him.

“Don’t talk to me about it again,” he said quietly, and then he pushed past Sam and head down the corridor in the direction of his bedroom.

The slam of his bedroom door echoed down the hall, and Dean squeezed his eyes shut as he leaned back against the door, feeling the anger curl in his gut. It was like an itch beneath his skin. It made him want to tear his hair out or scream, or smash everything he owned that was within reach.  

Instead, he just leaned against the door and breathed in and out, forcing himself to calm down. Because Sam didn't understand. The only person who could possibly understand how he felt was _Cas._ And Cas was gone.

By the time he finished his beer, he was almost calm again. True, he felt like he'd been ripped apart from the inside, and he felt betrayed, and still embarrassed, but asides from that, he felt numb. And he regretted smashing up his phone, too. Although, he knew Castiel's number off by heart.

It was a few more days before Dean finally decided to call that number.

He was in a dingy motel room by himself. Hunting always took his mind off crap, and this was just a standard ghost type problem. He'd told Sam he could handle it on his own. It was another way to get away from Sam, too, who had taken to pussyfooting around him for fear that Dean might break or something. Dean didn't think he was _that_ fragile. Sure, he couldn't sleep, but he wasn't about to start crying if Sam ever said something out of turn.

He looked down at the phone in his hand, focusing on the number he had typed in. It was Castiel's, Dean was sure of it. Not a single digit was wrong.  

It still took him a few minutes before he finally pressed the call button.

The call rang out. Of course. And so did the second, and then the third.

By the fourth, Dean decided to leave a voicemail.

He squeezed the bridge of his nose as he listened to Castiel's voice recording over the line, his chest tightening. When the phone beeped to start talking, Dean had to clear his throat.

“Hey,” he said quietly into the phone. “It's, uh. It's Dean.” _Remember me?_ he thought bitterly. “I was just calling to check in with you, make sure you're okay, and all that. It's… Sam and me haven't heard from you in a while.”

It occurred to Dean then that maybe Sam was right. Maybe something actually _had_ happened to Cas, and Dean had been too busy sitting around feeling stupid and sorry for himself to have done anything to help him?

The new thought made Dean's gut twist with panic.

“Please, just call me back,” he continued quietly, voice a little more urgent than before. “Because - because I'm worried about you.” He paused, squeezing his eyes shut. “And, Cas. Listen.” He smoothed a hand across his jaw, remembering the feeling of Castiel's stubble against his skin, Castiel's fingers tracing the lines of Dean's ribs, or hip bones. Dean missed him. More than anything. “If you're freaking out about what I said, then forget it. Forget I ever said anything at all. Just, please…” He swallowed the bubble in his throat. “Just come home, sweetheart.”

He hung up then, before he could let himself say anything else. He squeezed the phone tight in his hand and pressed it against his forehead, silently praying to Castiel, hoping he would hear him. Hoping he was listening. And as he fell asleep again that night, it was with his blankets and pillows pressed up against him, imitating the curve of Castiel’s body curved against Dean. He missed the safety those arms provided.

Castiel never called back, though. Didn't even text.

After a couple days, Dean had to head back to the bunker, having finished up the job in the town, the ghost finally salted and burned.

Castiel still wasn't in the bunker when he arrived home.

Dean didn't ask Sam about it, and in turn, Sam didn't ask Dean about it either.

By the time the two week marker rolled around, Dean had just about given up hope on ever hearing from Castiel again. He was probably back in heaven, or something. Where he thought he belonged. And Dean wouldn't ever see him again. Or, worse, maybe he was dead. Maybe someone had him held captive.

Tracking his phone had proved useless. The last place it registered him being was in the bunker, which told them nothing. It meant that either Castiel had left his phone at the bunker, or it had just been switched off since he had left.

Or it meant he really had returned to heaven, like Dean feared. There wasn’t any signal there, after all.

It wasn't until one night when Dean was getting for bed that he heard it. The bang of the main doors being opened and closed.

He tensed, reaching for his gun immediately as he stumbled over to his door in the dark. Sam was already in bed - it was nearly three o'clock, after all - and the only reason Dean wasn't in bed already was because he always put off getting into bed these days. It was harder to sleep without Castiel beside him.

He hovered by his door, his heart pounding, as he listened to the sound of someone clicking the handle from the other side.

As it opened, Dean moved instinctively.

His hands grabbed onto a collar, slamming the person around in the dark and pressing them up against his bedroom wall. The barrel of his gun dug into the small of their spine, their arms twisted behind their back, pinned down by Dean's hands.

From the pained grunt, it was definitely a man, although, it was hard to see in the dark.

The scuffle lasted barely thirty seconds before Dean realized exactly _who_ it was that he'd just yanked around and pinned against his bedroom wall.

“Dean,” came the gruff voice, deep, gravelly, and painfully familiar.

Dean's grip went slack for a moment, his mouth running dry.

“Cas?” he breathed.

His hands slipped, dropping Castiel's arms as he began to lower the gun. Jesus, the gun. He had a gun pointed at Castiel. He dropped it onto his bedside table and took a step back, his mind reeling as Castiel turned around, slumping against the bedroom wall. He looked exhausted.

In that moment, Dean wasn't sure what to feel. Angry, maybe? Relieved?

He felt all of that and more. And when he reached forwards, he wasn't sure whether he was going to hit Castiel or not, until suddenly he was pulling the angel roughly into his arms, hugging him tightly.

“You _ass_ ,” Dean breathed, gripping onto the back of Castiel's trench coat as he pressed up against him, closing all the gaps between them both. He could feel Castiel's hands scrambling against his back, finding purchase as he hugged Dean in return. “You stupid _ass_. Where the hell have you been?”

"I’m sorry,” Castiel said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Dean just shook his head, his face pressed into Castiel’s neck, as he held onto him. It was only when he leaned back to look at Castiel that he noticed the guilt across the other’s face.

“Cas,” Dean mumbled, his hands on Castiel's shoulders now, one gripping onto the collar of his coat. “Where did you go?”

“I went for a drive,” Castiel whispered.

“For _two weeks_?”

Again, Castiel just looked even more guilty. But it was true, Dean thought then. Dean hadn't thought to check the garage. Castiel could easily have just taken his car, left, and not looked back.

“I didn't mean to be gone so long,” Castiel murmured and Dean scoffed, feeling his relief shift slowly into anger again. His hands slipped from Castiel's shoulders and he took a step back.

They had to talk. That's what Sam had said, right? They had a lot to talk about.

“I just wanted time to think,” Castiel continued.

“Think. Yeah,” Dean muttered. He felt his chest tighten and he took a step back and turned away, running his hands through his hair. He sucked in a steadying breath and cleared his throat. “If it's about what I said last time, then forget about it. It was a stupid thing to suggest.”

“Dean-”

“-I swear to god, Cas, don't push it.”

A hand found his shoulder, steadying him, and Dean said nothing. He stood there, feeling the weight of Castiel's hand against him. He was an angel. He had the power to crush Dean in a second if he so desired - yet his touch was always so gentle.

Castiel guided him to turn back around, his thumb brushing circles against Dean as it always did. “There was a lot to think about,” he said softly. “I wish it were as simple as me just saying yes and agreeing to your suggestion - because it's what I want, Dean, of course it's what I want - but a decision like that… it shouldn't be rash.”

Dean thought back to Sam and Eileen. About how, maybe they weren't being rash about their life decisions, but they weren't being _cautious_ about them either. Not the way that Castiel was, clearly. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

“I’m not a human,” Castiel said softly, as though Dean wasn’t already painfully aware of that fact. Sometimes he forgot it, when he was busy pressing soft kisses to Castiel’s stomach and over the edges of his hip bones, or when he was lying with his head in the others lap, gentle fingers playing with his hair. In those moments, it was hard to believe Castiel was anything but a man. And Dean had made his peace with loving men. Angels, though? They were something else entirely.

  
“What’s your point, Cas?” he mumbled, wishing they didn’t have to have this talk.

“You said you wanted a normal life.”

“And?”  


Castiel hesitated. “I can’t give you that.”

Dean let out a noise of frustration. “I can live without normal,” he snapped then. “I can’t - I…” He swallowed, rolling his eyes. “Normal, I don’t need.” _But I can’t live without you_ . It was such a pathetic thought. One that Dean couldn’t bring himself to say. But, outside of Sam, Cas was all Dean had - hell, even _Sam_ knew that. When Sam and Eileen left to go build their perfect life someplace else without Dean, Dean would have nobody. But _he’d have Cas_.

“You said it’s what you wanted,” Castiel pointed out.

“I want the closest thing to normal that we can get, you dumbass,” Dean sighed, moving to go sit down on the edge of his bed. He ran his hands through his hair again, his mind struggling to string full sentences together. It was three o’clock in the morning, for crying out loud, as though Dean could focus enough for something like _this_. “I know there’s stuff we can’t have. Like normal jobs, or - or all that crap...”

“Kids,” Castiel said suddenly then. When Dean looked up, he realized how sad the angel looked, his eyes tired and his face worn. “A family, Dean. A real family. I can’t give you that.” He swallowed, and Dean watched the movement of his Adam’s apple as it rose and fell. “Not only am I an angel, but I’m also in a male vessel. Everything aside, it would never be poss-”

“-I get it,” Dean interrupted, gritting his teeth. “But when the hell have I ever wanted kids?” He raised his eyebrows at Castiel, looking up at him from the bed. “You’ve already given me a family, man. _You_ . _Sam_. You’re my family. I don’t need anybody else.”

“But if you change your mind-”

“-I won’t,” Dean said firmly. “And I’m not - I’m not asking you to marry me, for fuck’s sake. I asked to live with you. To live with you somewhere that wasn’t _here_. Somewhere that doesn’t remind us constantly that our lives have been crap.” He sighed, reaching a hand out and waiting until Castiel took it. The quietest of intimacies always felt like the loudest. They’d done far more intimate things in this bed than hold hands, but Dean still felt his cheeks warm as he laced their fingers together, gently tugging Castiel close. “Gay couples adopt anyway,” he added absently. He looked at Castiel closely, studying his face through the shadows of his bedroom. “What else is on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Castiel said, too quickly. He looked away and Dean reached up, touching his cheek until their eyes met again.

“Talk to me,” Dean said softly. It was something they needed to practice.

“Dean.”

“I mean it, Cas. You’ve been gone for two weeks, and I’ve been out of my goddamn _mind_.” He clenched his jaw. “You owe me this. Okay? You owe me the truth.”

“One day you’re going to die,” Castiel said finally, his voice calm. It was the last thing Dean had expected him to say. “You will age, and then you will die. And I will wish I could join you.”

Dean went still, not even breathing as he looked up at Castiel.

_Great_ , he thought. Yet another thing that made them not normal. Yet another thing that Sam and Eileen didn’t have to worry about as they planned out their future together.

“Don’t say that,” Dean mumbled pointlessly.

“It’s the truth.”   
  
“Well, don’t say it. You don’t have to say it.”

“ _You_ won’t have to live it.”

Dean pressed his lips together, their hands still linked, but in that moment, Castiel couldn’t have felt further away from him. How long had Castiel thought about this for? How long had it been playing on his mind? And all of his anxieties must have just surfaced the moment Dean suggested something _permanent_ between the two of them. Something tangible. Like a house. A _home_. Somewhere where they could build a life together, outside of hunting and away from everybody else; the way that normal people did, like Sam and Eileen.

“I know,” Dean said finally, his voice soft. He brushed his thumb across Castiel’s knuckles slowly. “What do you want to do about it?” he whispered, his chest tightening. His mind was already jumping to every worst possible scenario. It started to make sense why Castiel had spent so long being away from him. He was just figuring out a way to end their relationship, that was all. Because ending things now would save him from any heartbreak later on.

Dean was just… he was bitter. Bitter that the one thing he’d asked for in all his life - after already giving up _so much_ \- was the one thing he couldn’t have.

Castiel’s fingers tightened in Dean’s, his free hand moving to touch Dean’s face, keeping their gazes locked even though both of them wanted to look away.

“Cas,” he prompted quietly.

Castiel shook his head. He looked devastated. “If I gave up my grace,” he began, voice barely audible, “would you want that?”

Again, Dean felt his heart freeze. He started to shake his head, his stomach tying itself into knots. “You can’t do that,” he mumbled. “I can’t let you do that for me.”

  
“I want to.”

  
“I’m not worth that, Cas.”

“Dean.” Castiel pulled their hands apart, moving to hold Dean’s face with both as he lowered himself to his knees, settling on the floor between Dean’s legs. “Maybe it’s what I want,” he said quietly, but it didn’t feel true. Dean could remember when Castiel had been human before - none of it had been pleasant for him (mostly because of Dean, again) and he’d searched for relentlessly for his grace. Dean couldn’t ask him to give up a part of himself so that they could be happy together. Castiel shouldn’t have to do that.

“It’s your grace,” Dean breathed. “You can’t give it up for me. It’s your _grace_ , Cas.”

“Exactly.” Castiel smiled a little. His thumb skimmed against Dean’s bottom lip carefully. “It’s mine. And I don’t want it anymore. I would rather live a full life here on earth, with you, than cling to the remnants of who I once was.”

Dean swallowed, looking at Castiel, his hand moving to cover Castiel’s hand on his face. He could feel the gentle pulse of Castiel’s vessel as his thumb pressed against the inside of the angel’s wrist. “You can’t make a decision like this on a whim,” he murmured.

Again, Castiel merely smiled slightly. He still looked sad, but less so than before. “It’s not a whim. I’ve been gone two weeks, haven’t I?”

Dean sniffed. “You could’ve called, by the way.”

  
“My phone was out of charge. I didn’t have a charger on me.”

“Could’ve just - not left in the first place, then.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “It’s very hard to think around here with you distracting me every five minutes.”

“Ass,” Dean mumbled. He leaned forwards, his forehead resting against Castiel’s shoulder as Castiel’s fingers ran through the hair at the back of his neck, holding him close.

“It’s Cas,” he heard the quiet reply. Dean’s snort was muffled into the fabric of Castiel’s coat.

He was tired. It was stupid o’clock in the morning. And he felt like he’d been tugged every which way emotionally. But for a moment, he was finally able to relax. Finally able to breathe. After two weeks of being utterly lost, and completely stressed out, it was a relief to finally be able to hold onto Castiel with the promise that, maybe one day, they’d get their version of normal. Maybe.

“I’m gonna need to get you microchipped,” he mumbled eventually, face still pressed into Castiel’s neck, just breathing him in. revelling in the warmth that he constantly emitted. “That way, maybe you’ll stop disappearing on me.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said again.

Dean just smiled slightly, leaning back. He shook his head. “Forget it.” He touched Castiel’s cheek lightly. “We should sleep, though.”

“You mean, _you_ should sleep,” Castiel smirked, tilting his head to one side - coincidentally pushing his cheek even more against Dean’s hand.

“Laugh it up. If you’re giving up your grace, then you’re gonna start suffering along with the rest of us mere mortals.” Dean grinned. He couldn’t help but grin. It was the bizarrest conversation of his life, but he also kind of loved it. He untied Castiel’s tie slowly, starting to unbutton his shirt.

He didn’t think he’d get to a point in his life where he’d wind up undressing someone with the sole intent of sleeping with them - and actually _sleeping_. No sexy business.

“Christ, I hope your sex drive doesn’t take a hit if you become a mortal,” he teased softly, earning a half-glare from Castiel who was shrugging out of his coat and shirt.

“What about my sex _appeal_?” the angel shot back.

Dean sniggered, shifting back onto the bed and climbing under the covers. He watched as Castiel unbuckled his belt and let his slacks fall to the floor before he shrugged a little. “What sex appeal?”

The sock that was thrown in his face was totally worth it.

The bed sank slightly as Castiel climbed under the covers to join Dean, and it felt beyond right to have him home again, in his rightful spot.

For a moment, the two of them just blinked at each other in the dark. Dean was remembering their last conversation here, before Castiel had left. His hand skirted against Castiel’s shoulder, touching him just because he could; because for years he hadn’t been allowed to, but now things were different. They were learning to break those boundaries.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Castiel whispered after a long time, no doubt once he realized that Dean had no intention of closing his eyes.

“Mm.”

“Stop thinking. Go to sleep.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m thinking about you.”

Across from him, Castiel still looked unimpressed. Deeply so, in fact. But Dean didn’t care. All he could think about was how much he and Castiel had lost over the years, how much time. And now Castiel was going to give up a part of himself so that they could be happier together. It felt like a sacrifice that he shouldn’t be willing to make - one that he just shouldn’t have to make, regardless. But the universe sucked. And it seemed intent on making Dean’s life as unfair as possible.

Instead of saying anything more, however, Dean merely leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to the corner of Castiel’s lips, before he was slotting himself against the angel’s side and finally allowing his eyelids to fall heavy.

He slept properly that night, for the first time in two weeks. And when he woke up, it was to the solid presence of Castiel against his side. He was awake, obviously, but his eyes were closed and he looked at peace, his breath warm against Dean’s cheek.

Dean kissed his forehead, loving the hum of approval that rumbled against his chest.

Eileen was in the kitchen when they appeared an hour or so later, their hair damp from showering (another thing angels didn’t need to do - but Dean had enticed him well enough) and their clothes now fresh on. She smiled at the sight of them both, offering Dean a wave. Dean hadn’t even realized she’d been staying the night.

“Hey, Eileen,” he smiled, waving back.

“You’re back,” she said to Castiel, and Castiel nodded, moving to sit down opposite her. He signed something back, and the conversation was immediately lost on Dean. It carried on in near enough silence behind him as he began to fry some bacon, preparing breakfast for when Sam would inevitably come wandering in still half-asleep.

Dean still felt guilty for the way he’d snapped at him a few days before. It wasn’t Sam’s fault that Castiel had disappeared, and Sam had been right; Dean had no right to go around getting mad at him because _Dean_ had hangups in his love-life in ways that Sam and Eileen just didn’t.

Besides, maybe he was jealous of them for knowing how to love each other so easily - but maybe his and Castiel’s hesitance wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe it just meant that, when they were ready to be open with each other completely, it would feel a hundred thousand times better than if they’d rushed things.

When Sam did reach the kitchen for breakfast, he’d given Dean a concerned look at the sight of Castiel sitting up the table, still talking to Eileen over a mug of coffee.

“Did you two sort things out?” he asked in a hushed voice as he helped Dean load of plates of bacon. As though Castiel couldn’t hear everything within ten feet of him anyway. Maybe Sam just didn’t remember that fact about angels, though, but Dean certainly did.

He caught Castiel’s eye from across the room, just briefly.

“Yeah,” he told Sam with the smallest of smiles. “I think we cleared stuff up.”

“And you’re okay?” He looked nervous just to ask the question, and hell, Dean remembered the way he’d flinched when he’d thrown the phone at the wall.

“I’m okay,” he assured him quietly. He pressed his lips together. “And I’m sorry. For acting the way that I did.”

“It’s okay. You were going through some stuff.”

Dean shook his head. “Doesn’t excuse it,” he muttered. He picked up his plate before clapping Sam on the shoulder and grabbing another. “I’m proud of you, though. You and Eileen.”

“Yeah, well.” Sam smiled, looking genuinely happy for a moment. His cheeks dimpled he reached across, punching Dean in the shoulder in retaliation. “I’m proud of you and Cas.”

Dean just rolled his eyes, but inside his stomach flipped. It was weird for Sam to tease him back. And addressing it didn’t feel like the heavy weight Dean had thought it would be. It felt like something he wanted to talk about - something he wanted to tell people.

It wasn’t until a few months later that Sam and Eileen moved in together.

Packing up Sam’s belongings into boxes had been one of the strangest things Dean was sure he would ever have to do. Not only did it make him truly realize how much flannel his brother owned, but it also made everything feel so much more final than it had done before. Sam was really moving out. Things were really moving on. It felt like the end of an era.

“We want you two here every weekend at least,” Eileen told him from the doorway of their home, as Castiel and Dean stood on the doorstep, readying themselves for the long drive back to the bunker. Eileen reached out and touched his arm gently. “We'll need company to keep from killing each other,” she added with a smirk.

Dean laughed, his hands deep in his pockets. “You'll never be rid of us,” he promised, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He wasn't sure Eileen noticed, though. He had a suspicion that Castiel did.

It was only once they were back at the bunker, Dean's heart heavy as he looked around the empty room, that he felt a hand press against the small of his back.

He knew who it was. There was only one other person there, after all. But even if there had been half a dozen people with him, Dean would have recognized Castiel's touch. He was used to it by now - although, he wasn't used to being used to something like that.

The hand move from the small of his back to his waist, and then strong arms were wrapping around him, a warm body pressing against Dean’s back. Stubble grazed the side of his neck, replaced only by the press of soft lips. Dean relaxed into the touch, his hand covering Castiel’s on his stomach.

“Houseplants,” Castiel whispered suddenly into the quiet.

Dean frowned. “What?”

“Houseplants,” Castiel repeated again. Dean turned around in his arms, his face screwed up in confusion even as Castiel rolled his eyes. The angel leaned forwards, kissing him softly for a moment, and Dean didn’t even have time to protest - not that he would have. “For _our_ home,” Castiel murmured against Dean’s lips as they broke apart. “I’d like houseplants.”

Dean had almost forgotten about his suggestion, all those months ago. The suggestion that they would live together, away from this place. Somewhere small. Maybe with a garden.

Maybe houseplants would do.

“We don't even have a house yet,” he pointed out softly.

“I've been looking.”

Dean didn't trust that statement in the _slightest._ He didn't believe he and Castiel would have the same taste in houses at all. Castiel would probably pick a cabin smack bang in the middle of the woods, somewhere straight out of a horror movie - Dean wanted the suburbs. A nice, suburban house. Something they might have chosen to start a family in. Even though they couldn't ever have kids.

“Where exactly have you been looking?” Dean asked then, raising an eyebrow. He smoothed his hands across Castiel's shoulders gently, brushing a speck of dust off of his collar.

“Around,” was all Castiel said. “I have some ideas.”

“Cas…”

“I think you'd like them.”

Dean smiled a little. It was strained. “Maybe,” he murmured.

Castiel looked at him for some time, and again, Dean felt like his soul was getting scanned, like a barcode. “You don't need to worry about him,” Castiel said eventually, as though he knew what was on his mind. And he was almost correct.

“Sam's got his life together,” Dean snorted. “He doesn't need to be worried about. He… he knows what he wants. And he's gonna go get it.”

Castiel pressed his lips together. “So maybe we ought to do the same,” he said quietly, his voice sincere.

Dean had no idea what he even meant, but he said nothing as Castiel's hand moved from Dean's hips, reaching up to fiddle with his collar until he found a chain that hung around his neck. Dean hadn't noticed it before then, but now he stared at it, his heart suddenly pounding.

He watched as Castiel tugged the chain out from beneath his collar, his fingers running the silver through his hands until he reached the vial that hung from the end. It was small. A tiny cylinder of silvery, pale blue light. Dean felt his breath catch. He recognized the contents

“Cas, what is that?” he whispered.

Castiel shrugged, looking down at the vial in his hand. “It's my grace,” he answered simply, still not looking at Dean.

“No. Cas…” Dean pressed his lips together, his heart aching. He reached for Castiel's wrist, gripping onto hIm loosely. They hadn't talked about the possibility of Castiel giving up his grace since the night he'd returned. It had been just another thing the two of them should discuss but never wanted to. To see him stood there, though, with something so important to him, locked away in a vial in the palm of his hand… it made Dean's heart break. “You should have talked to me. You can't just - just make a decision like that on your own.”

“It’s my decision to make,” Castiel said softly, “not yours.”

“When did you do it?”

“Last night.” Castiel ran his thumb across the vial, the contents swirling peacefully. Dean closed his hands over it. He didn’t want to see it. At the movement, Castiel looked up, something akin to caution flickering across his face briefly. “I would’ve told you,” he said carefully, “but I thought… I thought it would be a nice surprise.” He paused, chewing his bottom lip. “You still want this, don’t you? I know it’s been a while since we talked about it.”

“I just…” Dean swallowed, feeling like crap. Like absolute crap. Because Castiel had done this for him, and it should be making him happy - but it wasn’t. He felt sad. “I don’t want you to regret this,” he explained quietly, trying to find the words to explain how he felt. “I don’t want you to resent me one day. When you’re going gray and getting back ache like the rest of us. An’ you’re gonna look at me and wonder why the fuck you gave up your literal _god given powers_ to just grow old and die with some stupid-ass human.”

Castiel’s eyes were sad as their gazes met again, like he couldn’t quite believe what Dean had just said. He pulled the vial gently out of Dean’s hands, lifting the chain up and over his head. “Don’t talk about yourself like that,” he murmured, reaching forwards and guiding the chain over Dean’s head instead. Dean didn’t resist it, just stayed still as the chain settled around his neck, the vial a reassuring weight against his chest. “I’m not going to regret my choice. I promise you.”

“You can’t give me this,” he protested weakly. “I might break it.”

“You won’t.” Castiel smiled a little, hand smoothing across Dean’s chest absently before falling to his side. “You’ll look after it. And if you ever don’t want me anymore, then you can give it back to me.”

Dean smiled, scoffing slightly. He reached a hand up to touch the vial, feeling how heavy it was against his palm. “That won’t happen,” he mumbled.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah. I do.” He rolled his eyes and looked up at Castiel.

It was crazy to think about how much they had been through together. Castiel had literally pulled Dean out of hell. He’d turned his back on heaven for him. Fallen from grace. They’d been to purgatory and back together. And now this? Castiel had become a human for him.

Jesus, he wasn’t worth it in the slightest.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked quietly, his voice hoarse. Castiel tilted his head, looking confused. “Come on, Cas. All the time.” Dean clenched his jaw. “You do so much for me. And - I’m not special. I don’t deserve this.”

“It’s not about deserving,” Castiel said softly.

He looked at Dean, and Dean looked back at him, feeling his heart go still.

“Dean,” Castiel started then, something holding him back. He visibly clenched his jaw, his eyes tired.

They didn’t look away, something heavy settling between them both as they crowded each others personal space in the empty room. It felt like every intense conversation they’d ever had before, yet this time, Dean felt like he knew what was coming. They both knew what was coming.   

“I love you,” Castiel whispered at last, as easy as that. As though they hadn’t waited years to say those few words.

Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in.

His hand touched Dean’s chin, and Dean leaned into it. Hearing it out loud was all he had wanted for so long. And Dean had known it all along, but to actually hear it - to actually have Castiel’s feelings _confirmed_ … it felt like he could finally relax. He could finally let himself go.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back. Because now wasn’t the time for reservations. They were past that.

Castiel smiled. It was worth it to see that smile alone.

And when Dean kissed him, he could still feel the shape of Castiel's smile against his lips, drawing him in. Every touch making him feel as though he was somebody important. As though he was needed. Wanted.

And _god,_ did it feel good to feel wanted.

“So you agree with me on the houseplants,” Castiel said late that night as they prepared for bed. His hair was damp from their shower and he leaned against the bathroom wall as Dean brushed his teeth, the two of them in nothing but their towels.

Keeping clean was something Castiel would have to adjust to now that he was human again. And as Dean glanced at Castiel's behind him, eyes skimming over his bare chest, he thought back to what they'd spent the last half hour or so doing in that shower. If Castiel had to keep clean, then Dean might as well make it as entertaining as possible for him.

He smirked around his toothbrush, spitting into the sink a moment later. “Why’re you back on that?” he sighed, looking at Castiel's reflection in the mirror. Around his neck, the vial containing Castiel's grace swayed slightly as he moved, the silver blinking in the light.

“Because we need to start thinking about these things. About whether our interior design tastes are compatible.”

His hand ran up Dean's spine and Dean rolled his eyes.

“It's too late to back out now,” he decided for them both. “We're gonna do this, even if it means I have to deal with you wanting purple and yellow painted walls.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow.

“But if you suggest purple and yellow colored walls, I might have to kill you,” he added quietly, shaking his head. “Houseplants, though? Those you can have.”

“And fish?”

Why the _hell_ did Cas want fish? Dean couldn't even be bothered to question it.

“Only if you do the tank cleaning,” he sighed instead.

“I love you.”

Dean rolled his eyes again. “Shut up,” he huffed, but Castiel still looked smug. He could probably tell that Dean was fighting back a smile, and even Dean could feel how warm his ears had gotten.

A part of him hoped that Castiel wouldn't say it all the time now that they'd said it once, but another part of him hoped the angel - _ex_ angel - would remind him every day how he felt. It was like breaking down a dam. One minute they were holding it all back, and the next minute it was flooding out of them freely. Dean wanted to kiss Castiel until he couldn't remember his own name, and he wanted to whisper those same three words over and over again to him in the darkness as he did so. Just because he could now.

He didn't, though. Not because he was holding himself back, but just because he wanted to save those moments for when they really mattered. Maybe he would wake up the next morning and the first thing he'd tell Castiel was that he loved him, but for now, he just slipped his hand into the others and tugged him down the hall to his bedroom. Their bedroom, technically.

As they lay in bed that night, their hands tracing each other idly in the dark, Dean couldn't help but feel content. They'd spent so long not understanding each other, not knowing how to be around one another, let alone how to love each other, that he couldn't help but revel in the fact that they were finally liberated of all those insecurities that had held them back before. And things had been good before, Dean thought.

They were just even better now.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i'm really not sure how I feel about this one-shot, to be honest, I've never written anything vaguely canon-set before, so i'm pretty nervous because it's kind of hard to write them at all in character :( so please lemme know how I did / if it's okay! <3


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